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By the mere naming of her performance “Entanglement,” artist Kendall Nordin bridges the gap between science and mysticism, transforming the notion of self into that of a medium, as a universal energetic conduit of the universe, bridging connections between drawn events, making visible the very thing that Einstein referred to as “spukhafte Fernwirkung" or “spooky action at a distance.”

Quantum entanglement is a widely accepted theory within quantum mechanics claiming that when particles, from the subatomic to the size of small diamonds, interact physically and then become separated, they continue to behave as though they are connected to one another, maintaining opposing charges or directional spins (with one positive - spinning clockwise, and the other negative - spinning counterclockwise), even when charges change after separation.

Kendall’s packaging of what Einstein initiated with Boris Podolsky and Nathan Rosen, in a paper entitled the EPR Paradox in 1935, is a simple and quiet representation of the magic of correlation between two repeated drawn actions at a distance. One pencil in each of her two hands, with arms outstretched, connected by the complex system of mind, body and otherness, leaves two circular graphite energetically connected circular marks that Kendall connects with another diagrammatic mark of a straight line. At the end of the performance, visitors can witness multiple entangled actions at a distance as real actions drawn together on a semi-translucent sheet of paper. Visitors are also invited to take home a small circular physical paper ring with them, an act that represents the possible infinite connection of entanglement the viewer now has as an ecology of subatomic particles interacting and engaging with the event, medium, and experience.

- Max B. Kazemzadeh
Asst. Professor of Art & Media Technology
Gallaudet University

Looking @ Kendall Nordin @ Container Space

Last month I drove out to the George Mason University campus in Fairfax, Virginia, to see Kendall Nordin's work at Container Space. This gallery is a converted shipping container outside the art building and is maintained by the art department. Its programming focuses on installation and site specific work.

When I arrived at Container Space in the middle of the afternoon, Nordin's work was quiet. The air was still and warm and bright outside, and the little shipping container turned gallery was like a dark cave; nothing was moving inside. I knew, though, that the artist had imagined periods of stillness and activity in her installation, so I decided to be patient. I walked all the way into the container, taking my time, looking at the strings of tiny acetate flags that were draped across the ceiling and down the walls. I thought of Tibetan prayer flags or Mexican papel picado banners, as if each little bit of acetate might have its own meaning or message that was hidden to me. This hidden information was like a challenge to me the viewer. I realized I would have to be quiet myself, and more open to my senses, before I could really understand this work.

Eventually, I turned around to face the doorway and the bright light outside...and then I began to see little flickers around the edges of my field of vision, pulling my attention this way and that. As I moved, the flags responded, waving, shaking, and catching the light. The work unfolded for me then, as I slowly circled the space, watching for it.

I really appreciate seeing work that asks me to be patient and wait for it. i feel like i don't get many opportunities here to see work like that.

- Mariah Johnson, artist & Porch Projects gallerist

Metamorphosis of Space

Being tired after a long day and still in the middle of a jet lag, it happened that I set foot in Kendall Nordin's studio in Tallinn. I was completely out of shape at this moment, nervously trying to get myself to do even more. The city rhythm of Vienna, the travel, and the sudden being drooped out of a plane, with a straight landing in a completely different world made me completely 'buzz'. I found my way through the big yellow studio, stumbling some "Hello I'm Simon" and received a delightful smile along with a friendly "Hi, how are you?" The woman had needles and threads in her hand and was sitting on a big round table in front of some translucent papers. Next to her was a cup of green tea. She sat there sewing in an inexplicable meditative manner and with a few nice sentences she encouraged me to have a look around.

I made a few insecure steps into the space and gazed upon a three meter by one and a half meter broad sheet of yellowish paper, hanging form the ceiling. At first look I hardly recognized this paper, svelte crinkling itself down the wall, as a work of art. It rather looked like an unguardedly mounted piece of paper hungrily waiting to be fixed straight, and to be painted in a colorful and meaningful way. Although I couldn't understand why, it was not possible to move on. There was something about this paper. It did not let me go. It took me almost another half minute to find the reason. The dainty and meticulously arranged crinkles reminded me of the meander of a decent but small river, seen form an airplane, after it's water gouged it's way through erratic grounds. On it's matted large surface, soft indiscernible white lines and spaces gleamed like the reflected surface of slightly agitated water, when the shine of the moon reflects in the lake. Imagine a real Estonian summer and remember the steam that traversed the little window of the Smoke-Sauna and the traces of steam on the glass, the little drops of water that stick to it without forming small fluxing ditches.

In another corner of the room was a 10 x 10 cm piece of transparent plastic material. Again I hardy recognized the soft forms on the surface and my perception became hyper-sensitive. I felt my complete perceptional apparatus drifting into a convenient, totally natural aberration. The slight but crystal-clear divergence between this soft mode of perception and my normal state of mind made me scrutinize the rest of the room for little abnormalities. Suddenly, the tiny corner of the wall, the little black dots on the floor, even the smallest irregularity became to be a potential work of art. The whole room turned out to be one artwork. My world turned out to be in the middle of an ongoing metamorphosis, not yet butterfly but not caterpillar either. Not yet art and not yet real. Since my experience of Kendall Nordin’s work my view of the world swaps between the dihedrals of art realities and physical realities.

The energy within this room, her dulcet voice and the person I sensed she was, as well as the inconspicuous and peculiar objects around her, were drawing me out of my city-mode, into a uncertain state of exception which I still enjoy today. Behind my desk I keep pondering, is this—the creation of an opportunity to see the world differently—the real meaning and the one challenge of art.

- With thankful greeting, Simon B. Haefele for Kendall Nordin.

Portraits of Fallen String

"Kendall Nordin's 'fallen string' drawings absolutely must be seen in person to be understood. They have an illusionistic quality that makes it appear that a fine human hair is attached to the page and you're seeing its shadow. In fact it's all drawn. Through the delicacy of the line, these works achieve a subtle trompe-l'œil effect that surprises and delights."

- MuseumNerd www.twitter/museumnerd


Title 5

Title 5 TEXT

On Entanglement...

On Here they have been from their childhood...and can only see before them...

On Kendall Nordin's work...

On Portraits of Fallen String...